


a small world in a small room

by aetherae



Category: Kara no Kyoukai | The Garden of Sinners
Genre: Community: 31_days, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-25
Updated: 2015-09-25
Packaged: 2018-04-23 09:39:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 901
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4871953
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aetherae/pseuds/aetherae
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Spring comes. The flowers bloom. It’s beautiful.</p>
            </blockquote>





	a small world in a small room

**Author's Note:**

> x-posted from tumblr, a few edits. i love kirie a lot, but i’m also unreasonably fond of the first movie in general. despite getting the least screentime out of all the major characters, she’s probably one of the saddest to me. like “Her ancestry grants her unnatural vitality, but this has only prolonged her life beyond what a normal human being should be able to survive, rather than allowing her to overcome her illness“ is so… it’s just sad.

> **19\. you will live when you should not**

The year she’s admitted to the hospital, Kirie would have been in her second year of high school.

Her parents assure her that she’ll be out of the hospital as soon as they find out what’s wrong. _Don’t worry, Papa has all the money you need_ , her father tells her. Their apartment complex is doing well, and new residents are still moving in, if not as frequently as before. Her little brother doesn’t mind because it means he can still run through the hallways with his friends without getting into trouble from neighbors. Their mother scolds him, but Kirie only laughs.

They promise to visit again soon, and when visiting hours are over, they hug and kiss her goodbye before quietly shutting the door to her room. It’s a plain room, two shelves and one cabinet, with her as the only patient. She doesn’t like it. The view from the window is gorgeous though, and she falls asleep with her eyes to the sky.

Spring comes. The flowers bloom. It’s beautiful.

●

She doesn’t leave the hospital soon.

Her doctors don’t know what’s wrong with her, even after years. She’s sure she’s weaker now than she ever was before, after all the blood drawings and tests, the examinations and scans. The inside of an MRI machine is all too familiar to her. By the time she’s allowed to return to her room, she’s exhausted. There’s barely enough energy left to greet her family when they come to visit. When they ask if perhaps they should visit less so she can rest more, she thinks she cries.

Their buildings aren’t doing so well anymore. Her mother says they might have to declare bankruptcy, but her father assures her that they’ll still have the money to make sure she can stay here. Even her brother says that he’ll find a part time job if that’s what it takes. He’s so young; she tells him to focus on studying instead.

Kirie doesn’t have the heart to tell them that she’d rather leave the hospital, even unwell, and live with them. They try so hard for her; she doesn’t know how to repay it aside from remaining in the hospital. When they leave, she says good night like she always does. She looks out the window, watching.

Spring comes. The flowers bloom. It’s beautiful.

●

Her family dies in a car crash.

The news calls it a tragic accident, an unfortunate happening, a cruel stroke of fate. There was no one to blame, no one at fault; it could’ve happened to anyone. Luck would simply have it that it happened to her family.

She’s too weak to go to the funeral.

Her parents’ insurance policy means that there’s more than enough money for Kirie to remain at the hospital. She has no need for a legal guardian anymore, and there’s nothing to keep her from staying there. _We’ll find a way to help you, we swear. You’ll walk out of this hospital soon enough_ , her doctors promise her.

It doesn’t matter. There’s nowhere else she can go in the first place.

The last traces of winter die as her mourning period passes. She has no reason to look out the window anymore. Her only visitors from now on will be doctors and nurses. There is no one who’ll come back for her. She looks out from her bed regardless.

Spring comes. The flowers bloom. It’s beautiful.

●

Kirie doesn’t know how she’s still alive.

Her doctors try to hide it from her, but she knows they don’t understand either. It’s been so long, and she’s only ever gotten worse. Some days, she doubts she ever had a life outside this room, this hospital, this view. Her world is a closed box.

“Fujou-san,” one of the nurses says to her one day while prepping her for another test. It seems rather pointless to her. “Your hair has gotten quite long now, hasn’t it? Are you sure you don’t want to cut it?”

“It’s fine. It doesn’t bother me.”

Her hair is the only healthy thing left about her.

Time passes. Her hair grows. The closed box never opens. She looks out the window.

Spring comes. The flowers bloom. It’s beautiful.

●

She sees him at the corner of the hallway.

That boy isn’t coming for her. She knows that, but it’s hard not to see him. The same day, the same time, the same place, every week. Always with a bouquet of flowers in hand. While she’s already lost track of how long she’s been here, the boy almost makes her try again. He is unfailingly consistent, a constant change in her small world.

She can’t remember the last time something was different here.

Kirie doesn’t know who it is he comes to see, but she thinks them very lucky. Sometimes, she wishes someone would visit her like that. She wishes _he_ would visit her like that.

Until one day, he stops coming. Even though it’s the same day, the same time, the same place, she does not see him. There’s no new bouquet of flowers. The change is over.

Her body grows weaker still, but _still_ she does not die. She can’t see well anymore, but she doesn’t need to see to know what the world looks like outside her window.

Spring comes. The flowers bloom. It’s beautiful.

She hates it.


End file.
